


Ein Kompliment

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Hanna [10]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Dancing, Dorks in Love, Drunk Tom Hiddleston, Drunkenness, F/M, Family, Flirting, Visiting Germany
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: In April of 2017 Tom and Han visit her family in Germany to tell them about their engagement. They also have fun at a garden party.





	Ein Kompliment

**Author's Note:**

> This is set before Lovecats. Enjoy!

“Okay, help me. What’s Rot Grutz?”

At Tom’s whispered hiss right next to her ear, Han jerks in her garden chair. It’s a lovely, relatively warm April day in Germany, and she was just starting to relax.

She takes off her sunglasses and tilts her head to meet Tom’s confused face. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, as is Han, both of them blissfully happy to just relax and enjoy the week off, especially after Tom’s long Skull Island promo and the news they can share.

Currently, Tom is also rocking from one foot to the other, looking more than a bit sheepish.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to startle you. But your mum asked me if I like Rot… red… Gru… I can’t even say it.”

He looks so lost that Han can’t help but chuckle. She takes his hand in hers, pulling him a bit closer so he sits on the arm of the chair.

“Rote Grütze, Tom. Red fruit jelly. That’s what it’s called. I think you mean that at least. My mum makes a great one with vanilla sauce. It’s lots of red berries and thickened fruit juice.” She scrunches up her nose. “I don’t actually think she’ll need help with that.”

“God, do you think your dad convinced her to give me a stern talking to?”

Han snorts. “I was the one saying yes,” she says, looking down at the sparkling ring on her hand, “they should talk some sense into me.   
  
_Please don’t let anyone talk any sense into her,_ Tom thinks a little desperately. He’s still floored that Han has accepted his proposal. Even more floored when he thinks of a wedding to be planned, a life to be shared with her.

In a gesture he’s repeated for the past few days, he reaches out and links fingers with Han. His thumb rubs over the sparkle of her engagement ring, the light blue hue glinting in the sunlight. It’s a cushion-cut aquamarine surrounded by small diamonds–or at least that’s how he remembers the description from Cartier. He chose an aquamarine again because it matches a previous gift that Han liked very much.

Lifting her hand to his face, he kisses her knuckles, enjoying the giddy kick that seeing her wearing the ring gives him every time.

“Tom, kommst du mal?” he hears Mrs. Engels call from inside the house. Probably to prepare him for married life, she’s been using him as a helper all day. Not that he minds… He understands enough of the German sentence to know he’s supposed to come inside. Maybe the ‘grutz’ thingy is ready to be devoured?

“See you in a bit, almost-Mrs.-Hiddleston,” he says and smiles when Han lifts her head for a kiss. So what if the kiss turns a bit sultry and lasts a bit long? Blissed out, he finally gets up and shuffles back into the house where enticing smells waft through the air.

He’s almost in the kitchen when Mr. Engels peeks round the corner of the living room door, where he’s been watching something utterly German and terrifyingly confusing on TV.

Oh dear. Confrontation time? Han’s father took the announcement rather well yesterday. But maybe sleeping a night on it changed his mind?  
  
“Ah, Tom,” he says in his heavy German accent. “Come in here for a moment.” Shit. Shitty-shitty-shit-shit.

Hoping that he’s schooled his features enough to not let his inner panic show, Tom follows Mr Engels into the living-room where he’s already disappeared into. Shit.

“Uhm,” he starts as he enters, Han’s father now sitting on the sofa. Tom gestures behind him. “Your wife called me…” It shouldn’t sound like a question, yet it does.

“Hm. Sit with me.” Okay then.

Tom shuffles to the sofa and sits down. Hopefully, Han and Mrs Engels will look for him, if he doesn’t reappear within the next hour. There are people on the TV looking like they’re solving some kind of murder. They’re also definitely talking in a horribly strong accent.

They sit in silence for a while until Tom clears his throat. “So…”

“So, you want to marry Hanna.”

He knew it. This is horrible. “Uhm, yes. And she wants to marry me too.”

Mr Engels – can he call him Daniel anytime soon? Probably not – cringes a bit and then nods sagely. “I know. You live in England then? Not coming back? You want children? I see you in magazines?”

“Uh, yes. Yes we’ll live in England. I think… and wow… children. Yes. I guess. Uh…” Well, this is going spectacularly wrong. Is it hot in the living-room?

“So, you get married in England? I have to fly? I don’t like to fly.”

Of course not. That would be too easy, right?

“Tom? Daniel? Seid ihr im Wohnzimmer? Er sollte doch zu mir kommen!” (*Are you in the living-room? He was supposed to come to me!)

He’s got no idea what Mrs Engels is shouting, but Tom’s never been so glad to hear her voice.  
  
A moment later, his saviour–not quite a knight in shining armour but a woman in a white apron–walks into the living-room. One glance, and she seems to know exactly what’s going on, in that way mothers have.

“Ach Daniel, jetzt lass den armen Jungen doch wenigsten atmen!” (*Oh come on, Daniel, give the poor boy some time to breathe!)

It sounds like some form of scolding, which prompts Mr. Engels to mutter something and shift on the sofa. Then he replies something in a belligerent tone, and all Tom catches is “Hochzeit”, “England” and “Hanna”.

Mrs. Engels pats Tom on the shoulder, speaking in English for his benefit.

“Of course they’ll get married in England, that’s where they live. But I hope they’ll incorporate some typically German things into the menu and ceremony.” Turning to Tom, she beams and looks like an excited schoolgirl for a bit. “Will it be a big wedding? A smaller one? Church? On television?”

Dear God in heaven, now she’s started too. Tom fidgets some more, struggling to keep smiling.

“To be honest, we haven’t really discussed the details yet. But I’m sure Han wants some German elements, and I’d be very happy to incorporate them. And…” He gives himself a shove and speaks on. “And I know she’ll love having her Mama fuss about her and help her choose a dress and all that. If you’d like, I could arrange tickets for you to come to London for shopping and planning.”

Abruptly, Mrs. Engel’s eyes grow misty, and then she’s sniffling. Well, shitty shit and damn again. What has he done wrong now?

While he’s still worrying, she beams an even brighter smile at him and wipes furiously at her cheeks.

“Oh, I’m so happy. So glücklich. Our Hanna is getting married. Danke. Yes, I would love to help her with the preparations, if you don’t mind.”

* * *

Outside, Han is sitting a little straighter in the garden chair, stretching and trying to hear the conversation inside.

She by far couldn’t catch all the voices and noises before, but she certainly heard enough to know that Tom somehow got lost on his way to the kitchen and that the reason for that was her Papa.

He’s really not a bad guy – her Papa that is – he’s just a little grumpy every now and then and trying to protect his only child. She can’t blame him. But it would be nice, if he didn’t try to scare off her boyfriend. Fiancé, she corrects herself and grins.

Now, it’s been quiet for awhile, and Han hopes it’s because her Mama saved Tom from the evil clutches that are Daniel Engels and the German Friday afternoon TV-shows. There are two dealing with weddings and wedding dresses, though…

Deciding to check on Tom and maybe get some of her mother’s Rote Grütze while she’s at it, Han puts down her sunglasses on the table next to her, slips into her shoes and goes inside.

Her Papa still seems to be in the living-room, but she can’t make out any other sound than that from the TV or radio in there. So, she walks into the kitchen and stops at the sight, trying to hold in a snicker.

There sits Tom, at the table and – of course – already with a small bowl of Rote Grütze in front of him, vanilla sauce on top. He’s just licking the spoon and grins at Han as he notices her.

Damn him. He knows what that does to her, and indeed she’s all flustered now, just looking at him.

Her Mama is preparing coffee, seemingly too busy talking about cakes, soups and… party games?! Goodness, should she have come for Tom sooner?

But one look at him tells Han he’s enjoying this, as long as he gets coffee and pudding.

With an eye-roll that earns her a smile from Tom, Han clears her throat, making her Mama stop talking mid-sentence and turn around.

“First of all, I want some of that,” Han says as she gestures to Tom’s bowl, “And second, we haven’t even set a date yet, Mama,” she continues and then walks over to sit on the chair next to Tom’s. “Hi,” she whispers. “You okay?"  
  
He nods and leans over for a quick peck on her cheek.

“Your mother saved me, and now she’s on a roll and planning about a dozen weddings, but I’m armed with gruh…whatever. So I’m okay.”

With a giggle, Han settles down more comfortably. She’s barely eaten her first spoon of fruity delight and tartness-sweetness when the doorbell rings.

“Ich geh schon.” Her Mama bustles away, and this time Tom leans in for a proper kiss, tasting of dessert and bliss. (I'm going.)

“I just realized how many details we should discuss,” he admits.

Han’s answer is cut short by her mother calling her name. “Hanna, kommst du mal? Da ist jemand, der gern hallo sagen würde.” (Hanna, can you come here? There's some one who would like to say hello.)

She exchanges a raised-brows expression with Tom, who looks as if he’s understood the most important words. With a rap on his knuckles, she gets up. “I swear, if you eat my portion of Rote Grütze as well, there’ll be consequences, Tom.”

He sends her an angelic look. “I would never!”

Grumbling goodnaturedly, she walks to the front door–only to exclaim in surprise when she sees the young woman there. It’s Lisa, the neighbours’ daughter who was a friend of Han’s for quite some years before they grew up and parted ways.

They hug, briefly discussing how different yet same they look and how long it’s been. Then Lisa explains her reason for stopping by: they’re hosting a party this evening. Barbecue, drinks, 90s songs and karaoke. And the Engels family is invited!  
  
Of course, the invitation expands to Han’s ‘plus-one’ as Han explains that she’s not here alone. There might even be a squeal when Lisa catches sight of the ring sparkling on Han’s finger.

Of course, Lisa – and other neighbours, as Han and Tom have been in the papers for quite some time when they’re out and about, and they’ve visited since their first Christmas together as well – knows who her fiance is. And she’s sworn to secrecy. Han and Tom both decided to wait a bit before they tell the world. Or let them find out on their own.

Her Mama and Han chat with Lisa for another short minute before they promise they’ll be there at 6, so they can start the Barbecue on time.

Back in the kitchen, Han laughs out loud. Tom’s done with his dessert, and it looks like hers is untouched, but there’s definitely a look of longing on his face, before he grins at Her, shrugging.

“Didn’t touch it.”

“Mh-mhm.” Back on the chair next to him, Han picks up a spoon of Rote Grütze, and swallows before she raises a brow. “What do you think of the 90s?”

Of course, she should have known, he makes it a challenge, an association-game almost. “Bad fashion, Jurassic Park, and my first kiss?”

“First kiss, huh?”

“Horrible one. All of them before yours.”

“Smooth.” He grins at that. “We’re invited to a garden party, right next door. Will you go out with me?”

* * *

Oh course, Tom’s answer was an enthusiastic ‘yes’. She’d yet to find more than five things he isn’t immediately enthusiastic about, that energizer bunny of a human.

So now, almost three hours later, Han is rummaging through the suitcase of clothes she’s keeping at her parents’ place.

“Nein,” she mutters to herself. “Das passt nicht. Und das hier schon gar nicht.” (No. That's not fitting, and that's not fitting in the slightest.)

A soft wolf whistle from the doorway interrupts her. “I have no idea what you’re muttering on about, love, but as long as you do it in only your underwear, I’m all ears.”

Realizing she’s indeed only in her bra and panties, she straightens from the open suitcase on the bed and turns to Tom with a ‘harrumph’.

“I don’t have anything to wear that would be good for a 90s party,” she says, knowing she’s pouting a bit. She’s really looking forward to that party and to having Tom share the fun. Alright, the sparkling ring on her finger might be adding to that giddiness.

Her fiance–shiver of delight–stalks closer after nudging the room door shut with a foot. There’s humor and hunger in his eyes, a deadly combination.

“I’m sure you could always raid your mother’s wardrobe and find something old enough. But for now…” He steps close enough to loop an arm around her and haul her right against his body. “For now, I need to steal a kiss from my gorgeous fiancee before I’m robbed of all chances.”

And he does right that, her half-hearted protest morphing into a low moan when he runs his free hand down her spine. His fingers circle the sensitive skin at the small of her back, barely skimming the waistline of her panties. His tongue strokes, and she twists hers against it and melts into the kiss, clothes issue momentarily forgotten.  
  
Han pushes herself closer while simultaneously lifting her hands to let her fingers play with the still damp hair from his shower in Tom’s neck. When she uses her nails to lightly scrap his skin, it’s Tom who moans into the kiss.

Hips bucking forwards, meeting hers, Tom lets go of Han’s lips for a moment while they both drag in breaths. “We can always not go,” he murmurs.

It is tempting, she has to admit. Maybe just stay here for another hour or maybe two… then ten minutes at the party and leaving early again?

Tom’s right hand travels lower when she doesn’t answer immediately, skimming the roundness of Han’s butt. “It could be glorious.”

“Tooooooom,” is all she can say just as there’s a knock on the door. Her fiance moves away from her as fast as if he’s burnt himself and her parents are actually standing in her room. They’re not, the door is still blissfully closed.

“Hanna? Wir sind schon mal weg. Bis gleich!” her Mama says. (Hanna? We’re on our way. See you later!)

“Okay!”

Still panting, Tom and Han stare at each other until Tom pouts. “Later?”

She smirks, looking at him in his own outfit of jeans and a shirt, not yet ready for a 90s theme. “Later. Promise. Later, longer, and hotter,” she winks. “Now, help me dress and I’ll help you.”

* * *

“I need another drink,” Tom mutters an hour later.

Han raises a brow at him. “You downed your last one only a short while ago.” Technically, the real party hasn’t even begun yet. There’s still all the food everyone’s devouring, and more guests arriving. Music is playing in the background–Backstreet Boys–but it’ll take another hour or so until it’ll be darker and the music will get louder.

“I know.” Tom sighs, shifting her as she’s perched on his lap. “But it’s just…so…much… I need another drink to stop my eyes from bleeding.”

Han smothers a snigger, running her fingers through his hair. Admittedly, her eyes feel like bleeding too. Or being doused with bleach. There are so many garish colours, too big clothes, ripped jeans, plaid shirts, platform shoes, clashing patterns, and awful hairstyles all thrown together with party food, mismatched outdoor furniture, and a big carpet someone has inexplicably dragged onto the lawn.

The two of them had rummaged around in cardboard boxes stored in the attic, finding some useful clothes. Tom is playing it rather safe with a huge shirt that once belonged to Papa, accessorized with a cardigan around his shoulders. Han has found scrunchies from her childhood and dolled herself up with garish makeup and pigtails like Baby Spice. The neon green leggings she once grudgingly kept because they were so comfy to wear to sleep in winter make her outfit complete (and she’s hoping nobody will spy the hole in one leg).

A newcomer in Doc Martens, overalls and a bubblegum-pink crop top waves at her from the terrace, and now it’s Han’s turn to sigh. “Okay. Another drink.”

Something about her voice must’ve given her away because Tom turns to look at her, frowning slightly. “That expression is a bit too desolate for this outfit, drink-worthy as it may be. What’s the matter, love?”

Han scrunches up her nose. “That’s Bettina. She and I were…well…not the best of friends. Her brother though…” Dammit, is she blushing now? Has that one drink already gone to her head?

Tom continues to watch her, his eyes shifting from Han to that Bettina woman and back. “What is it?” he asks, trailing his fingers over Han’s lower back. “And what about her brother?”

Han mumbles and grumbles something, but Tom can’t quite make it out. So, he wiggles his legs a bit, making her giggle and almost topple off his lap, but holding on to his shoulders.

He grins at her. True, this outfit is hilarious and apart from the music Tom only understands half of what’s being said, but Han’s laughter rings through the garden and she looks adorable right now. He shouldn’t tell her, though. She’d probably hit him.

“Tell me,” he tries again, this time sitting up a little straighter and leaning in.

Again, it’s just mumbling. “… Michael” is the first thing he hears, though the name is pronounced very, very German. “…crush” is another word Tom makes out.

Wait, wait, wait. “Huh?” But before he can ask more, Tom feels Han shift as she looks back at Bettina, who’s now accompanied by a tall blonde man, who waves at her as well.

“I’ll get you a drink.” And just like that – with a kiss on Tom’s cheek as some kind of goodbye – his fiancee is gone.

Wait, wait, wait, again. But just as Tom wants to go after Han and maybe get introduced to that man as well, Julia Engels is next to him, a glass of wine in one hand, a tall glass of a Weizenbier in her other. She sets down the glasses and then lifts a finger, indicating for Tom to wait. She turns around and grabs two shots from the nice neighbour walking around with a tray.

Han’s Mama grins as she sits down next to Tom. He must look a bit shocked, because now Julia also seems to be laughing at him. “What do you think, where did Hanna learn to hold her drinks?” She puts a shot glass in front of him. “Himbeergeist. Prost!”

With a sigh, Tom first looks to Han, who’s now talking to that man, but indeed having two beer bottles in her hands, and then grabs the shot. “Cheers.”

“Are you having fun so far?” Julia asks.

Tom makes himself nod, not taking his eyes off Han and the two newcomers. “It’s very…colourful. And relaxed.”

She downs the Himbergeist like a pro, making him blink and imitate her. It’s tart and sour with a bit of a bite and a hint of fruity sweetness. Huh. Not all that bad. Where’s Han when he wants to share this new discovery with her? Ah right, she’s with that man whose smile is a tad too bright and who’s standing a tad too close.

“Oh yes. I bet it’s nothing like those fancy parties you’re usually invited to,” he hears Han’s mother say. Stifling a scowl, Tom glances at her with what he hopes is an amiable smile.

“True, though I do go out with my friends sometimes and then it’s very relaxed too.”

Julia nods, scanning the crowd. She sits a little straighter when she finds her daughter and her company. “Oh, das glaub ich nicht!* If that isn’t Michael.” (Oh, I can’t believe it!)

Something about her expression gives him pause. She seems well aware that the man used to be Han’s crush. Somehow, that makes it worse. Must’ve been a pretty obvious infatuation. How long? How serious?

Wishing he could summon another Himbeergeist, Tom shifts on his chair. But he tries his best to suppress his initial jealousy. He remembers all too well the disaster with Han and her coworker Alex and how he almost lost the love of his life because of his possessiveness.

He’s not going to overreact again, no. Especially because Han is now his fiancee, and because he knows deep down that he behaved wrongly those days. And so he deliberately takes his gaze off the little group and lets his eyes bleed some more by observing the crowd while making small talk with Julia.

* * *

Han and Michael talk for a while as she tries to ignore his sister next to him. They haven’t seen each other for years, and though Han is a little excited to meet him again, it’s way different from what she felt in the past.

First of all, she has Tom now. Tom, who is decidedly not looking at Han and Michael, something that makes her grin. And the second thing being that she’s 30 now, just one month away from her next birthday.

Michael has been her first serious crush when she was 14 and he was 16. He’s also been her very first kiss. Not the worst, not the best.

They talk about what they’ve been up to ever since they parted ways when he left for university. He knows much more about her than Han knows about him. Which might be because of Tom.

“Der Ring ist sehr schön. Und ich freu mich für dich.”* (The ring is very beautiful. And I’m happy for you.) He smiles brightly at her, proceeding to tell her about his wife and little son, who must be running around somewhere here.

“Danke schön.” Han smiles brightly. “Und ich glaube, ich sollte Tom mal sein Bier bringen.” (Thank you. And I think I should take Tom’s beer to him.) They share a laugh, before Han touches his arm, squeezes, nods at Bettina – though grudgingly – and takes the two beers to Tom.

He’s sitting with her Mama, an almost empty glass of beer and two shot glasses in front of them. Tom’s face is hilariously stony as she approaches, making Han and Julia share a smirk.

Han puts both bottles on the table and sits down right in Tom’s lap, looping one arm around his neck. “Hi, grumpy.”  
  
Han can almost feel him vibrate with the need to pout. There’s a tiny muscle ticking in his jaw too. But after a moment, Tom loses some of his tension. His long arms come around her and anchor her firmly on his lap. With a knowing grin, her Mama leaves them, taking the empty shot glasses that smell faintly of raspberry with her.

Tom clears his throat and meets her gaze, and she’s got to give him points for not sulking. There’s something around his eyes that tells her he’s not very comfortable, but he’s really trying to come to terms with what little jealousy he might be experiencing. And that’s so much better than the fiasco from the past. He’s being honest, dealing with this, or at least she thinks so.

So she smiles when he asks her, “Nice catching up?”

“Yes, actually, though there wasn’t a lot to catch up with.”

Tom gives her a smile back, a bit more of the tension draining out of him. “He…um…looks like a nice guy.”

“Mhm,” is all she replies to that. Then Tom’s nuzzling her neck, and she forgets to tell him that Michael congratulated her on the engagement. His nose trails up and down the sensitive skin before he kisses her. He moves a thigh to unbalance her a bit and look into her eyes again.

“You can do some more catching up, if you want to.”

There it is. Him trying to make a big gesture. It’s her turn to kiss him, but on his mouth. When she sneaks her tongue out, she catches a hint of Himbeergeist…and a hint of a moan from Tom.

“Nope,” she says after a kiss that lasted a bit longer than intended. “I’m all good here.”

Then they groan simultaneously when Barbie Girl by Aqua begins to blare.

* * *

And yet, somehow – Han checks her watch – by 9.30 the music isn’t that bad anymore. Both her and Tom haven’t really left the table and she’s still in his lap. But by now she’s sitting on just one thigh, facing forward. Tom sits in the chair a little straighter with one arm loosely around her waist and the two of them gathered quite a crowd around that dining table.

Currently, Han is leaning a bit to the right to have a chat with Lisa about work and what else Han might be doing in London. Much to her neighbour’s credit she’s not stealing glances at Tom every two or three minutes anymore.

Not that Han could blame her. First of all, her boyfriend is great to look at – famous or not. And apart from that Han can vividly remember the first time she’s met Benedict and Sophie. No amount of Himbeergeist will make her forget that.

The raspberry brandy is also the culprit – at least Han thinks so – for the most unusual trio of the evening.

First, her Mama sat down next to Tom, two new shot glasses and the entire bottle with her. While Han also drank two and is now feeling a buzz from those and her beers, her Mama and Tom definitely didn’t stop there.

Then Michael of all people joined the group, and just five minutes ago her Mama swapped places with her Papa.

When all she got was a loose smile from Tom when she asked if he needed her to rescue him, she knew the Himbeergeist and the half litres of Weizenbier he’s drunk must have hit him hard.

Well, as long as they’re not sharing embarrassing stories about her.

Then she hears it. First, a low humming along to Lemon Tree which is currently playing, and then a quiet giggle next to her ear. Tom’s sitting forward to put his chin on her shoulder and breathes down her cheek.

Han turns her head a bit and is – again – met with a loose smile. “You’re drunk,” she whispers and grins. She knows that giggle. It’s not his typical one.

Tom stares back. “Shhh! Your Papa will hate me ‘gain.”

Tom sneaks a glance to his side, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees Han’s father in deep conversation with another neigbour dressed in a neon-orange jogging suit. Goodness, he could do with another shot of that Himbeergeist so his eyeballs don’t fall out.

Better not, though. He’s feeling a buzz right now, could keep going like this for hours. Just like this. Han in his arms, smelling so niiiiice and feeling so right. Music that he hasn’t heard for ages, apart from the odd guilty pleasure and karaoke session off and on. All these niiiice people, who’ve mostly stopped staring now, thank you very much. Yeah, he’ll continue to sit here and hug his fiancee close. Maybe ask her with his best puppy dog look whether she’ll feed him another mini-sandwich.

The first all-too-familiar sounds of ‘Macarena’ blast through the speakers, accompanied by a whoop from quite a few people, Han’s mother among them. Tom is up and out of his chair so fast he almost topples his fiancee to the grassy ground. He somehow manages to disguise his sway–oopsadaisy, he IS rather buzzed, isn’t he?–by pretending to need to righten Han and clutch her closer.

“Dance wi’ me, love.”

She’s making protesting noises, glancing everywhere because they’re the only ones so far, but Tom won’t have it. Macarena means you have to dance. It’s a law, he’s pretty sure about that. And so he mimics the first moves.  
  
Han suppresses a groan, mostly because Tom looks like a five-year-old in a toy store. Well, if five-year-olds could get drunk, because he’s swaying quite a bit.

She’s just not a dancer. She needs many, many more shots, if she’s supposed to be one.

And then Tom pouts and pulls her closer by her waist. “Hannie-Bunny, please.”

And before she can even give an answer, she’s turned around by Tom so suddenly that she gives a little squeal of surprise.

He’s pressing against her back, moving his hips to the rhythm, and by holding her arms he’s moving both of them along, giggling in her ear when the little jumping sends them off balance from time to time.

At least, others have joined, so it’s not that embarrassing anymore.

“Dale a tu cuerpo alegría Macarena, que tu cuerpo es pa’ darle alegría cosa buena. Dale a tu cuerpo alegría, Macarena. Hey Macarena,” Tom mumbles along behind her and sways with her in his arms, so that he forgets to do the little jump in the end.

Not that she minds. They’ve given up on the arm movements as well, instead opting to move in the rhythm and have Tom wrap his arms around her from behind. Also, how does he know the lyrics? Han doesn’t know anyone else who’s able to sing along while dancing.

When she looks up she sees her parents smiling at them, her Mama giving her a thumbs up, before patting her Papa’s arm. He’s rolling his eyes, but is grinning at least.

“’m thirsty,” Tom sighs, before resting his chin on Han’s head. “But I wanna dance.”

Han giggles and turns around. Now, there’s that pout again. She grins up at Tom, trailing her fingers along his cheeks. “That’s such a tough situation, isn’t it?”

He frowns. “You’ mockin’ me.”

“That I am.”

“Hate you.”

And then, almost fittingly, because of course now he can show all of his acting skills, the Backstreet Boys start playing. Everyone’s buzzed enough to stay on the make-shift dance floor, and before Han knows it, Tom’s thirst is forgotten.

Instead she’s pressed against his chest, arms tightly around her, and she can hear the dramatic rendition of the first lines – ‘Even in my heart I see, You’re not bein’ true to me. Deep within my soul I feel, nothing’s like it used to be’ – being sung by her fiancé, the occasional giggle interrupting him.

* * *

Tom finishes his - rather on point, if he may say so himself - choreography to the song, snuggling Han a little closer and heaving a blissful sigh. S a nice evening. Mhm. He kind of doesn’t want it to stop.

When he sway-turns with his fiancee–giggle–in his embrace, he spots her parents among the cheerful crowd. Mrs. Engels, umpteenth glass of red Himbeergeist in one hand, is giving him a smirk and a thumbs up. Mr. Engels looks less grumpy than usual but a bit confused. Not wanting to give him more reason for confusion, Tom valiantly tries to stand up straighter and stop grinning like a loon.

Suddenly, at the first sounds of the new song’s melody, a hush falls on the partygoers. And then all hell breaks loose as way too many and way too not-talented-at-singing people begin croaking, yelling and caterwauling along to the lyrics of a decidedly German song.

Hast du etwas Zeit für mich  
Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich  
Von neunundneunzig Luftballons  
Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont* (99 red balloons by Nena)

Squinting because it hurts his brain a bit, Tom tries to find out what the hype is all about. Suddenly everyone is singing about 99 something-or-others, if he’s even got the number right. Why would anyone want to sing about so many somethings? Not him with his math skills, noooope.

“Hey!” he complains when Han slips out of his hold to join in. Before he knows it, she’s holding some young woman’s hand and swaying along.

The next, more upbeat, song is something German too, this time male voices going on about a ‘compliment’ or other. Han is still singing along, headbanging a bit but also seeking eye contact with him.

She gets through the first verse and the first chorus of the song, before she takes pity on Tom, who looks a little lost, standing with his hands in his pockets and swaying back and forth a bit.

He’s got the cutest frown on his face, probably trying to understand the words. She can’t blame him for not understanding, though. They are singing that song rather fast.

So, Han lets go of her recent duet partner, a little out of breath and a little sweaty from singing and jumping along – she’s not that good at dancing, but with Tom here and being reminded of her younger years at parties and in clubs, she has fun nevertheless.

Tom tilts his head, the sweetest grin on his lips. He also puts his hands in Han’s when she reaches for him. The second verse is starting now.

_“Wenn man so will, Bist du meine Chill-Out Area, Meine Feiertage in jedem Jahr, Meine Süßwarenabteilung im Supermarkt. Die Lösung, wenn mal was hakt, So wertvoll, dass man es sich gerne aufspart. Und so schön, dass man nie darauf verzichten mag._

_“Ich wollte dir nur mal eben sagen, dass du das Größte für mich bist. Und sichergehen, ob du denn dasselbe für mich fühlst. Für mich fühlst.”_

She’s jumping in front of him, making him sway a bit when he starts laughing at her. The other guests are doing similar things, so it doesn’t feel quite so awkward. Even with her parents somewhere behind her in garden chairs, watching on.

“Han, still don’ speak Germ'n.”

She grins and nods and then gets closer again, abandoning the rest of the song to instead wrap her arms around Tom’s waist and lean in close. She’s had a bit to drink, so Han hopes she finds the right words to translate the song in her head.

Tom doesn’t seem to mind, his breath hitching as Han gets close to whisper in his ear, slowly swaying along with Tom’s arms around her shoulders.

“If one can say so You are my chill-out area. My holiday in every year, My sweets department in the supermarket. The solution when something’s wrong, So valuable that you like to save it. And so beautiful that you never miss it.

“I just wanted to tell you That you are the greatest for me, And make sure if you feel the same for me. Feel for me.”

* * *

Aaawww.

Has he said that out loud? He isn’t sure but he’s feeling all ‘aaawww’ so why not. Snuggling a little closer, he mumbles, “You’re def’n’ly sweet. But taste better ‘n the supermarket stuff.”

“Tom!” With a squeak and a playful hit to his bicep that has him wince and stumble rather a bit much, Han disentangles them. She’s trying to look scandalized and failing, despite the blush he thinks he can see when he squints.

Shaking her head on a laugh, Han takes his hand to maneuver them away from people dancing to the Spice Girls. Tom remembers he doesn’t want to look drunk and straightens up again, willing his legs to work as he holds on tightly to his fiancee’s hand.

“That was really nice dancing,” Han’s father says when they sit down at their table, and Tom’s so fuzzy and floaty that he doesn’t even mind the German accent completely murdering his language, like on the ‘th’ pronunciation.

“Danke,” he says as soberly as he can manage, while Han’s mother is giving him another thumbs up.

He also takes the cool glass of water Han has somehow found and pressed into his hand, and reminds himself not to sway or giggle…too often. They sit and watch as Spice Girls morphs into Madonna and then Ricky Martin. Tom wonders idly whether Shakira was in the 90s or after the millennium - because if they play ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ now, he’ll HAVE to dance again, probably grind a bit with Han.

But then she shifts on his lap, and a completely different urge has him grumble and mutter and shift.

“Hannie-bunnie?”

“Hm?”

“I need the loo.”  
  
“Okay.”

She untangles herself from Tom’s arms wrapped around her and stands up. The signs for the way to the toilet say it’s in the basement. Han spent so much time here when she was younger, she wonders if the loo next to the big party room downstairs still looks the same.

And she could use the loo too, now that she’s standing and with her downing two glasses of water as well.

But Tom won’t move. Instead he’s eyeing the new shot of Himbeergeist her mother is pouring suspiciously. “Shoul'nt drunk… drink that.”

“Yes,” is all her Mama says as she pushes it over.

Han glances at her Papa and laughs when she sees him doing the same with her. They’ll probably need to carry these two home by the end of the night. And her Papa has the easier job, she’s sure.

She waits until Tom has downed the shot and smacked his lips, before she taps his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“The loo? You said you needed to go?”

“Oh! Yes. Yesyesyesyes. Where’s it?”

Han more sees than hears her father snort as she can’t do more than roll her eyes. “I’ll show you.”

“You’re the bestest.”

It’s a bit of a struggle to get Tom up and moving, though he seems to be doing his best at walking straight lines with her. She suspects he’s holding back a bit, because drunk!Tom definitely acts differently around his friends.

The narrow staircase just on the left of the house that leads down to the basement proves her right. Good thing there aren’t any guests behind them or coming towards them, because Tom lets go of her hand in order to hold on to the wall on his left and the handrail to his right.

“You okay there?” she sniggers as he finally joins her downstairs.

“Splen'id.”

Tom pulls her against him again, this time her back to his chest. He lets her lead the way and then they finally, finally stand in the corridor and in front of the bathroom – which is unoccupied, thank goodness.

“There you go.”

With a salute and a kiss on her forehead, Tom’s gone, the door slamming behind him. “Oops.”

“Please, don’t lock it. I’ll wait here.”

And she does. Waits for quite a bit, hearing all the familiar noises from a toilet being used along with some humming and what must be some bumping into things. When she finally can hear flushing and then the water from the tab, it’s probably been five minutes. The door opens and out steps Tom, looking just a bit worse for wear.

But he grins at her and moves towards her and has her pressed against the wall in seconds. Quite accurate for someone this pissed.

His lips still taste like raspberries.  
  
The kiss is a little sloppy, not exactly what she’s used to from Tom. That doesn’t mean Han is not turning to mush or feels weak in the knees.

“Tom,” she mumbles against his lips. Tom’s hips press against hers and his hands travel up her body to cup her face. He doesn’t let go. But they are standing in the hallway after all. So, Han mumbles another, “Tom.” This time she’s a little firmer.

“Hmmm.”

“Guests are going to walk by,” she says against him, all while Tom’s lips kiss her jaw and cheek.

“Don’ care.”

Han chuckles at that, which seems to be incredibly funny to Tom, as he starts giggling and then hides his face in her neck. He licks once, which makes her yelp. “Hey!”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Care a wee bit.”

“Good.”

Han slaps his biceps softly, which in turn makes Tom look up and almost sway backwards. Han holds on to his waist.

He looks actually cute like this. Even with the way too big jacket in a horrible brownish colour. His cheeks are red and his hair is dishevelled.

This is going to be very much not romantic, but somehow Han doubts Tom cares in this state. All that pressing did something to her bladder.

“I need to go in there for a moment as well.”

“Huh?”

“I need the loo.”

“Oooooh,” he grins. “I’s ove’ there.” Tom points behind him and then moves a couple of steps to the right to lean next to Han against the wall. “Waitin’ here.”

With a roll of her eyes, Han walks into the other room. She scrunches up her face as she sees the disgusting green colour of her leggings. As she does her business, there’s suddenly a voice outside. Is that… does he…?

“Hm hm hm you go… I’ll be right here waiting for youuu.”

Yup. Han giggles. Tom’s singing. God help her, she’s in love with a dork.  
  
When Han comes out again, she’s immediately crowded in by Tom, who’s still humming bits and pieces of ‘Right Here Waiting’ rather dramatically.

She’s barely got time to grin when her back hits the wall and Tom’s hand are roaming–not as gracefully as she’s used to but with firmly clumsy intent that is somehow hot too.

“Where ‘re we ‘fore you d’serted me?” he mumbles, nuzzling and placing open-mouthed, a bit wet kisses on her neck.

“To-hom,” Han whines. “Don’t. We might get caught.” Her hiss turns into an involuntary moan when his teeth scrape over a tendon.

He stops though, staring at her with rather too much intent.

“Are you refusing me, woman? After I sena…ser’de…sang for you?”

She sniggers and presses a quick kiss to his pouting lips before using the momentum and wriggling out of his hold.

“I appreciate the heartfelt singing and endless waiting. And it’ll be rewarded–but not here and not now.”

She proceeds up the stairs, eagerly followed by Tom…whose hands wander despite her swatting.

“Ooohhh. When?”

Before Han can respond, though, they’re stopped on top of the stairs when her parents walk down the path.

“Oof,” Tom mumbles behind her as she comes to a halt, and Tom doesn’t quite manage to stop as quickly as her.

“Ich bringe Mama mal nach Hause,” her papa says with an eye-roll but a sweet smile on his face. (I’ll go get Mama home.)

Han looks at her mama. She simply has a large grin on her face and holds on to Daniel. She’s almost looking worse than Tom, but Han also knows that her mother always manages to recover quickly.

“Viel Spaß,” Julia grins, before Han’s papa leads the way. (Have fun.)

Tom’s been suspiciously quiet behind her. Now, he wraps one arm around her shoulders from behind, pulling her to his chest. From the corner of her eyes, Han sees Tom’s left hand shoot out for the handrail of the stairs. Good. No need to fall down those stairs backwards.

“Where’re they goin’?”

“Home,” she mumbles as she inhales Tom’s scent, snuggling a bit closer to him.

“Hm.” There’s a pause. “So. When’s the rewardin’ happ'ning?”

Han chuckles a bit at that. “Maybe we’ll let Mama and Papa go home first. And in the meantime we’ll get some water into you. And then, when we’re home, you’ll get a big kiss, okay?”

She feels Tom nod above her. “Okay.”

So, they make their way to the table, Tom’s hand in a firm hold in Han’s. Nobody else is at the table, so Han makes Tom sit down and then grabs a glass and pours some water. There’s also still a bit of white bread, which should be good as well.

Perched on Tom’s lap, Han hands him the glass and the bread, chuckling at Tom’s very delighted face as he munches on. When he’s finished, she almost shrieks as his finger now meets skin where her leggings are supposed to be. It’s on the inside of her thigh. He obviously found the hole Han didn’t want anyone to know about.

Tom pokes a bit. “I alm'st ‘ndressed you now.”

“Tom!” All she seems to be doing the past few minutes is hiss at him like a black mamba or force him to act sober.

Pouting, Tom wiggles his finger a bit deeper, scratching bare skin ever so slightly with a blunt nail.

“Hm? ‘s my name, I know. No need t’repeat’t all the time.”

This time she huffs, and rolls her eyes. Which kind of makes him dizzy. She also gets off his lap, which he did NOT want. How’s he supposed to investigate that fascinating hole now?

“Maybe I should call you Thomas William Hiddleston then?” Great, now she’s glaring. Kinda looks like two Hans scowling at him, if he doesn’t squint.

Sulkily drinking the last of the water in the glass he realizes he’s still holding in his other hand, Tom contemplates a good reply. He knows just what the use of full name means. His mom was good at that, oh boy. But it’s kinda cute on Han. And her being all bossy is a turn on, so… Focus. He needs to focus.

‘Soooorry. Didn’ mean t’poke you, Hannie-bunnie. Jus’ pointing out your state of…state of…dis…” Nope, can’t pronounce that word without losing his last bit of dignity. Why isn’t there more water to drink?

“Anyway, don’ mind. In a few more min’s, I’ll jus’ ‘ndress you completely. No more hole t’worry ‘bout.”

Han feels herself blushing and hastily looks around. Nobody seems to have heard what Tom’s just said. Thank God.

Her fiance is grinning at her happily, looking very pleased with himself. She shakes her head at him, losing her glare. Something she’s been doing for the last hours it seems.

“Maybe we should get you another water and some more bread first, hm?”

At Tom’s pout she can’t help but giggle. “Y’ said there’ll be sexytimes.”

“Aaaaaw.” With that Han goes towards him again, chuckling when he automatically widens his legs a bit, obviously trying to get her to sit down again. She complies, sitting sideways and wrapping her arms around Tom’s neck.

“D'you like me ‘gain?”

Han kisses his cheek. “Always.”

Tom grins like a little boy. “Sooo,” he mumbles, “sexytimes?”

“Oh, Tom. Okay. But water first thing when we get home. And no puking and then there might be some fun.”

“I don’t–” But at Han’s raised brows he quickly shuts up. Just to add a slightly pelutant “–notanymore.” They both remember that time he got drunk. Her a little clearer than him.

And then, eventually, they both make their leave. Tom’s hand wrapped tightly around hers while they say goodbye to the neighbours and some of Han’s friends.

As soon as they reach the inside of Han’s home, she closes the door and leans Tom against it. “You stay here,” she says and Tom nods, saluting her. “And I’ll get you a bottle of water. And then we’ll head upstairs. Quietly.” With a quick kiss she leaves him.

“Miss you.”

She laughs as she enters the kitchen.

* * *

When Han returns with the water, she hears a thumping noise. Quickening her steps, she spies Tom hopping awkwardly on one leg while trying to remove his second shoe. He teeters and manages to stabilize himself by slumping against the wall with a winded ‘oomph’. It’s all she can do not to snigger, though he hasn’t exactly been quiet.

As he sees her, he triumphantly waves the second shoe in his hand before chucking it into the corner where it lands with a second thump.

Sighing, Han walks over and hands him the unscrewed water bottle, glad that it’s plastic in case he decides to hurl that one too. As he drinks obediently, she bends to retrieve his discarded shoes and sets them down on the rack side by side, feeling a bit woozy from all the blood flowing to her head. So she leans against the wall next to Tom, just for a moment.

His arm snakes around her waist and he nuzzles the top of her head, then asks, “’member that time wh’n we fucked against t’ wall of your room?”

“Jesus f… Christ!” Han shoots upright, clamping a hand across his mouth as his words echo a bit in the ominously silent hallway. “Pass doch auf, was du sagst, verdammt noch mal!” (*Dammit, be careful what you’re saying!)

A mumbled ‘mmph’ is all she gets, then she can feel his lips move into a monumental pout at her deadly glare.

Tom didn’t fully understand what Han muttered in her language, but that hand that’s clasped over his mouth indicates that she wants him to shut up. Ts.

Now, this would be the perfect opportunity for him to be the one rolling his eyes. But Tom decides not to do that. He feels dizzy enough as it is, and he’s unbelievably glad to be leaning against the wall. Endangering this secure place by being sassy would not do him any good now. Also. He wants those sexytimes.

So, instead, Tom licks Han’s hand.

She lets go and also lets out a lovely, little scream. And a hiss. “Tom!”

“Be-a-bit quieter, love,” is all he has to say.

She’s so close to him. Tom loves that. But just as he decides to bring her even closer with his hands on her waist, he realises he’s still holding that damn open water bottle. Han also takes his other hand. That’s a start.

“Can you walk?” She’s back to whispering now, and Tom drops forward a bit to hear her better.

“Can I what now? ‘f course ’m walkin.’”

“Can you also be a little quieter?”

He shakes his head, now back against the wall. “Nope. Can lick your hand though.”

Han’s giggle makes him grin. He loves when he’s able to make her smile. Or laugh. Or snicker. Or dance. Or kiss. Or jump. Goodness. He loves it when she jumps. “–'vrything’s jump'n then.” Oh. Did he say that out loud? Han’s definitely looking at him strangely.

“Huh?”

“Hm?”

“Come on,” Han says and pulls his hand a little bit. But it’s still enough to make him stumble forward. A bit. “Let’s get you to bed. Hold on to that bottle. I want you to drink some more of that.”

“Cer'tly ma'am.”

They do make their way upstairs. Rather successfully even. Without too much bumping, and Han only stumbled once. Maybe that was because Tom missed one small last step. But she’s been pretty great so far. Tom even told her. About three times, before she told him to shut up.

Now, they’re in the bathroom together, both brushing their teeth with Tom holding on to the sink. He feels a bit dizzy. Dizzier than before. Maybe, only maybe, he’s had one raspberry something too many. Maybe.

Should he tell Han? He stops brushing for a moment.

“Thinkin’ I’m drunking. Drink. Drunk.”

Han moves fast, from next to him, down to spit out the toothpaste, and then she’s back in his vision again. Whoa.

“Noooo, you don’t say. Really?”

Tom nods. He also suspects she’s mocking him again.

* * *

Uh oh. Since they’ve come home, Tom’s become slightly drunker. Han guesses it’s the tiredness catching up with him as well.

Okay then. Undressing and getting him to bed will be a bit funnier then. And a lot less sexy, but Han expected that much. Tom will be disappointed though.

Wiping her own mouth with a towel, she mumbles, “I think you’ve brushed your teeth enough now. Let’s get you to bed.”

They’re indeed more successful than on their way upstairs where Tom wouldn’t shut up – and didn’t even try to whisper – and where he also missed the last step and almost made them fall down the stairs backwards again.

Han puts Tom on the bed, where he sort of slumps into what could be a sitting position and then almost slides down the bed when he tries to take off his jacket.

“Whoa,” he more whispers to himself, and Han can’t even be mad, because he just looks so damn confused and cute at that.

Tom rights himself again, this time wiggling out of the jacket very carefully – and so very slowly. She needs to help him, doesn’t she?

So, Han gets down on her knees in front of her fiancé, opening his shoes for him and pulling them off.

“Oh, like that.” It’s a lot less flirty and nowhere near as sexy as Han thought this day would end.

“Yeah? Me helping you undress?”

She looks up at him and smiles at his grin. “Y’ like me ‘ndressed.”

She nods. “Yes. I do like you undressed. Can you wiggle out of your trousers for me, please?”

And just like that they both get Tom undressed together until he’s just in his boxer shorts and white t-shirt. He looks all snuggly, and Han wants to do just that. Snuggle.

“Com'ere.” From the grabby hands Han suspects it’s a 'come here’ actually. Which she can’t yet, because she still needs to take off her make-up and her clothes and should maybe also get a bucket and some more water for Tom. Just in case, though he actually only got sick that once a bit of a time back.

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head. “Still need to get ready and get something for you. Give me five minutes.”

“Oooooh.” Tom nods, all serious now. “D'layed graff…gatf…gratf… wait'n.”

“Yup.”

She grabs her sleeping shirt and leaves Tom to it, hoping he won’t get in too much trouble in her room in the span of five minutes. She gets ready in record time, even having a short shower because she’s been sweaty and smelling like food and smoke all evening.

When Han gets back to her room with another bottle of water and the bucket, Tom lies half atop and half under the covers, on his back, blinking heavily as Han first puts the items down for Tom and then gets in on her side of the bed.

“Sexytimes?” he mumbles as he turns to her, but his eyes almost fall shut on their own.

* * *

Tom open his eyes. Well, one eye. Opening both seems risky and like too much work. Those lids sure are heavy, and it’s all bright. And he feels so warm. Comfy, despite a dull throb that may or may not turn into a headache.

Huh.

Slooowly, he cracks open his other eye too, squinting into the sunlight-filled room. Looks like they forgot to close the curtains last night. Or was it early this morning? What day is today?

The warmth around him shifts somehow. That’s when he realizes that they also forgot to fully undress, or settle down under the duvet.

Huh.

Memories come floating back, more and more the longer Tom forces himself to take steady breaths and sneak peeks. The party. So much fun. Himbeergeist, so much of it. More fun. Han all sexy and tempting. Sexytimes. Sexytimes? He tries to focus. No, probably no sexytimes, as disappointing as that is.

But it dawns on Tom that he’s snuggled up with Han, her being the Big Spoon for once and wrapped all around him, the sheets tangled and cocooning them. He doesn’t want to leave. But the warmth shifts again and suddenly hot breath ghosts over his ear and tickles.

“Tom? Are you awake?”

“Guten Morgen,” he mumbles, proud that he has apparently not lost all his brain cells in the booze-induced haze.

“Morgen.” Han presses a small kiss to his ear, so he dares himself to move. In stages, he rolls over so he can face her, pleasantly surprised that the dull throb doesn’t explode into the mother of all hangover headaches. He dimly recalls his brilliant fiancee forcing gallons of water on him. Must’ve helped.

Burrowing deeper under the covers and cradling her close, Tom snuggles in. So comfy!

“Tom?”

“Mhm.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he mutters, nuzzling Han’s neck.

He hears a soft laugh, feels her arms squeeze him.

“Think you can get up?”

“Later.” He pulls her even closer, inhaling her scent that mysteriously carries no alcoholic undertones. “’m only going to leave you and the bed after a major cuddling session. And only if there’s some more of tha Rot’ Grutz’ waiting for breakfast.”

This time, her laugh is more pronounced, though muffled against his chest.

“Deal, Mr. Hiddleston.”

He nods, almost catching her hair in his mouth as he whispers, “Deal, almost Mrs. Hiddleston.”


End file.
